


What You Need (NSFW)

by eratothemuse



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adultery, Angst, Choking, Dom!Steve, Dom!Thor, F/M, NSFW, Rough Sex, Smut, Trigger Warnings, kind of dark!fic-ish, not safe for work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-18 22:43:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20320723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eratothemuse/pseuds/eratothemuse
Summary: [Post-Infinity War, Pre-Endgame]  The Snap changed people— it changed all of you— and mostly for the worse. After a year, your long-term relationship with Steve is nearly in shambles, and somehow you’ve found yourself in a vicious cycle of secrecy and lust with Thor, both of you taking out your frustrations and anger on each other. Part of you wishes for the time before, when you were content to be on the arm of Captain America and he still looked at you the way he used to, full of love and admiration, but the rest of you that had picked up the pieces after all your friends got dusted? She told you there was no going back to who you were before, and Thor knew that better than anyone else.





	1. What You Need

**Author's Note:**

> **Pairings:** Thor/Reader; Steve Rogers/Reader  
**Reader Gender:** Female  
**A/N:** I’m sorry, but I literally had to do this. I’ve been dwelling on fucking buzz-cut Thor for a while now and this is the product of that thirst. I’ve never written a longer fic for Thor before, so hang in there with me, he may be OOC. Wrote this with plus-sized!reader in mind, but it’s not super specific, so I think anyone could enjoy. And, no, I haven’t proofread this yet. (What You Need — The Weeknd)

Gif sources: [1](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fio9.gizmodo.com%2Fbreaking-down-the-drama-of-the-latest-avengers-endgame-1833746027&t=YmE5OTRiY2Y5NWMzNDFlYWEzMGM4ZmZjMDIyNTBhNTQyNmM4YjAzYyxqRDFIeXF0SQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AuNoi0AujsProexVbD5JsWA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fthranduilsperkybutt.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187115612998%2Fwhat-you-need-nsfw-gif-sources-1-2-3&m=0) | [2](https://megmeg-chan.tumblr.com/post/187113130717/thompsons-tessa-thor-odinson-in-avengers-endgame) | [3](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.reddit.com%2Fr%2FLadyBoners%2Fcomments%2F8nv5h3%2Fchris_hemsworth_in_thor_ragnarok%2F&t=Yzk4YzY1YjBlYWQ5NjlmYTFhOTQyNGM1OWEwY2VkODhjZDhiMTVkZixqRDFIeXF0SQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AuNoi0AujsProexVbD5JsWA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fthranduilsperkybutt.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187115612998%2Fwhat-you-need-nsfw-gif-sources-1-2-3&m=0)

* * *

_And I'ma love you girl_  
The way you need  
Ain’t no one gon’ stop us  
Ain’t no one gon’ stop us  
And I'ma give you girl, what you fiend  
I’m the drug in your veins  
Just fight through the pain

If you had a time machine, and could go back to tell yourself a year ago just where you would end up, you’re absolutely certain your former self would have punched you in the face. She would have screamed at you, cried, told you how much of an _utter fucking idiot _you were for letting this go on for so long— for letting the best thing to ever happen to you slip through your fingers until you were barely hanging onto the rope that tethered you together— and you would have let her. After all, she was the version of you who thought that she would someday call herself Mrs. Rogers and sail off into the sunset with the super-soldier that, at one point, had completed her. Back before half the world disappeared, a lot of silly, stupid little things flitted through your head.**  
**

Now, you knew better. You knew the world was not so kind as to give you something like that— a love like what you had thought you’d had— for too long. Nor was it going to pity you now, as you found yourself once again outside another man’s door.

Of course you felt guilty. Just like every other time since the very first, you nearly stopped yourself, berating words rushing through your head. Part of you really, really wanted to run back to Steve. You wanted him to take you into his arms like he used to; you wanted him to look at you as if you didn’t make him feel entirely hollow inside, and he didn’t make you feel just as empty.

But the facts were, Steve had hardly touched you in months. His kisses were always quick, before he would rush to keep himself busy in a way that did not involve you. You hadn’t grieved the loss of your friends and family together, but rather, as far apart as two people could be while still sitting in the same room. You learned early that, whenever you would try to talk about how you felt— about how much it absolutely ripped you to the core— he would just listen. He would share nothing of himself, or his own feelings, despite the tortured glaze that would come to his eyes, before he inevitably told you that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, as if you had talked at all to begin with. The home that had been so warm with him turned cold, as if you were living with a stranger that was once your closest friend, regardless of how hard you tried to glue back the cracks of your utterly broken relationship.

A year ago, you never would have stood here, with this purpose or intent. You would not have so comfortably let yourself into Thor’s domain, without so much as a knock. You certainly wouldn’t have pressed yourself against the door to shut it behind you, a shuddering call of his name escaping you and ghosting deeper into the house.

You had sworn to yourself that last time would be the last time. That you didn’t need him the way you felt like you did right now. Convincing yourself for the past week that, if you just tried hard enough or pretended with enough enthusiasm, you could be happy with Steve again. Perhaps that was the worst lie of them all.

He emerges from where you were now intimately aware was his bedroom, sweat glistening along his skin as a towel hung around his bare shoulders, the remnants of the heated workout he’d had not long before. Thor doesn’t smile at you, doesn’t greet you with kind politeness like he used to. Turned out, he’d been broken, too. Perhaps more than any of you.

“You’re back,” he observes, but it doesn’t come out cold, like every word Steve said to you seemed to sound.

“I am,” you stare right back into the hybrid of colors that were now his eyes. Gold and blue burn into you, white hot heat that you can feel warming you from across the room. You’d never dare admit to anyone just how much you missed him this past week.

Thor moves towards you, his casual stride not masking the truth of it to either of you. He was closing you in, cornering you between him and the door before he gave you the one last out he usually would. Thor’s hand moves to your neck, urging you firmly to look up at him.

“I thought you wanted him still.”

Torn, but not wanting to talk about your failing relationships at the moment, you instead supply, “He can’t be what I need right now.”

“And what do you need, little one?” he breathes, lips hot against your temple, as he leans far too close for you to focus on anything other than the way his other arm had caged you against the door and the fact that the nickname was just about the only thing that made you feel like the girl you were a year ago anymore.

“You know it’s you,” you whisper against him, as if the truth of it was too much to say in a volume too loud. In the secrecy of Thor’s home, you were more truthful than you could ever be in your own.

“Just making sure you do,” he shoots back, before his lips crash down upon your own, his body flattening you against the wall. Your hands fist at his hair, pulling and biting at his lip with little regard as to whether or not you injured the God of Thunder. With him, you could be as rough as you needed to be. You could let the anger and hurt out in a way that didn’t make you feel entirely alone, and you weren’t at all disillusioned that he was in need of the same result.

He bites you back, to the point you’re certain you taste the iron of your own blood, but neither of you care. Thor groans into your lips, his tongue greedy as he kisses you, taking what he wants. His hands slip to your thighs, grabbing large fistfuls and hiking you up to his height, so he no longer needed to bend. You gasp out, not thinking you’d ever get used to the fact that these men could lift you like a feather. All at once, it makes you remember the fact that he could snap you in half if he felt so inclined.

Horrifyingly, the thought has you arching into him, rolling your hips into the curve of his length in his loose sweatpants. It turned you on beyond belief.

Another nip at your lip, that wasn’t nearly as rough as the first— the crime fits the punishment, after all, “Needier than usual, are you?” His lips trail down your neck, beard tickling before he briefly stops at your ear, “Do I need to remind you who you’re dealing with, again?”

“Maybe I forgot,” you bite back your smirk, letting your hands roam freely over his upper half, stripping the towel from him to fall at his feet. You both knew exactly where you wanted to be planted tonight, but Thor was hardly one to give you what you wanted without a fight. Deep in the dark crevices of your mind, you almost allow yourself to wonder what he had been like before. Had he been gentle, considerate? Loving, even, when he had found himself in the arms of a woman?

That was a question you wanted the answer to, but would certainly never receive.

“I’ll teach you again,” Thor growls, and suddenly you no longer have the door at your back. With a yelp, you grasp yourself to him by a quick grip on his shoulders, as he moves you deeper into his home. Depositing you on the couch with little regard for the abruptness of his motion, Thor drags you to him by his hands on your thighs, down the length of the couch until you’re positioned as he pleases. In one swift motion, your skirt is around your waist, revealing you without much effort on his part.

You silently relish in the fact that you manage to halt him in his tracks at the discovery, a mischievous glint in your eye as his own catch your sly gaze.

“You walked all the way here with no undergarments?” Thor’s voice comes out lower, a deep rumble that sets you aflame.

“You kept destroying them,” you reply innocently, as if it’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, “so I saved us the hassle of you ripping them off me.”

“Oh, you are far more the temptress than you care to admit.”

“I— Thor!” you gasp, all response lost as he wastes no time in placing his mouth along your entrance, tasting the wetness there as his eyes watch your reaction. His tongue licks a trail to your clit, circling it, flattening and pressing before he relents to lay his teeth into your inner thigh. “Thor,” you moan, arching up as your hand finds his hair once more.

“You will not cum until allowed, understood?” though it’s a question, Thor clearly doesn’t require an answer, with the way his mouth returns between your thighs. He drives you crazy when he does this, building you up only to pull away at the last moment before your climax. He must have been feeling particularly cruel tonight.

Regardless, you manage through your gasps, “I understand.”

His grip was so hard on your waist that you were certain he’d leave marks there tomorrow, a spark tingling through you as you feel yourself urging closer to the edge with each deft stroke of his tongue against you. He delves between your folds, pressing deep as he moans against you, letting the vibrations reach you deliciously deep. It doesn’t take long to have you a whimpering mess beneath him, begging for release.

“Please, Thor,” you cry out, “I’m so— I’m so close—” You feel yourself rutting against his face, but if it bothers him he doesn’t show it, instead letting you as he eats you out with a newfound fervor. “God,” your voice hitches, needing one last push to snap into your orgasm, “Thor!”

And he releases you, letting you fall back to the couch without the added support of his arms at your hips. You shudder there, whimpering for a moment as your clouded mind tries to understand the fact that he wasn’t still between your thighs.

“You are not allowed to cum yet,” Thor growls, slapping against your cunt with a firm hand and making you squeal at the over-sensitivity of the motion. You were so wet, you probably had stained the couch judging by the way his beard glistened.

“P-Please, have mercy,” you manage, sounding just completely pathetic and desperate, but you didn’t care. You’d beg as much as it took to have him get you where you needed.

“Not when you so clearly need a reminder of what you come to me for,” Thor murmurs, leaning back over you to wind his hand into your hair and pull you up into his kiss. It’s just as rough as before, but now you can taste yourself on his tongue. Part of you wants to slip your hand between you and help yourself, but you know better than that.

He was painfully hard, if the thick weight of him against your thigh was anything to go by. The cotton of his sweats did nothing to hide his own need. Just as you reach to palm him through the fabric, in a vain attempt to affect him in even a small way akin to how he’d been teasing you, he pulls from the kiss, catching your hands with his own and pulling them behind your back.

Thor looks at you disapprovingly, as if scrutinizing a child who had done something she was not supposed to, “I’m nowhere near through with you yet, little one.”

“Thor,” you whine, only to be pushed back onto the couch roughly. Another slap to your cunt.

“So demanding for someone with so little control,” Thor reprimands, but his thumb presses harsh circles into your clit that nearly take your breath away. “Is that why you are so dissatisfied with the Captain?”

“I don’t— I don’t want to talk about Steve right now,” you frown, but feel yourself jolt against his touch when he inserts a finger inside of you.

“Does he touch you like this?” Thor growls against your ear, slipping another finger into you as you whimper, before cutting off the sound with his other hand at your neck, squeezing just enough to remind you that he was in charge. “Does he fuck you like me?”

When you catch your breath just enough, you hoarsely respond with a weak, “N-No.” Tears brim at the corner of your eyes, from both the guilt and the intense feeling of Thor choking you while his hand worked miracles between your thighs. He curls his fingers, squeezing at your neck, and you yelp in response, gasping when he releases your neck just as you nearly cum again.

“That’s right, and that’s why you come searching for me, even after you say you won’t be seeing me again,” Thor growls the truth into your ear as you pant, desperate for his touch and extremely on edge. For a moment, you recognize the sound of thunder outside, and catch the sight of a spark at his fingertips as he lifts them to your mouth expectantly. Instinctively, you take them, cleaning him of you as best you could as you moan around his digits, before he seems satisfied enough to retrieve them.

“I want you to be on the bed, ass up before I get there, little one,” he orders lowly, before moving off of you to lounge against the couch and take his sweet time undoing the knot on his sweats that no doubt did not require being done in order for him to get them off.

Nevertheless, you hop up, nearly falling immediately due to the shakiness of your legs, and find yourself rushing towards the bedroom as fast as you can. You manage to strip your blouse off in the process and shimmy the skirt that had been hiked up around your waist off of you entirely before you reach the bed. You unclasp your bra, kneeling along the bed obediently, and depositing the garment off the end of the bed right as Thor enters the bedroom.

Catching sight of him, you openly moan. He stood there, entirely naked, one firm hand wrapped around his dick as he stroked it leisurely. Thor was ridiculously built in every way, and you felt yourself shudder under the intensity of his gaze as it drops between your legs to catch your own. The pupil of his one natural eye had blown wide, nearly eviscerating the blue hues there in a sea of black darkness. He looked fearfully dangerous as he stalked towards the bed, where you were sprawled just as instructed— just as he liked.

“Come on, Thor,” you urge softly, “take me how you like it.”

“Oh,” he huffs in a sort of dry chuckle, kneeing your legs a little further apart as he dips into the bed between them, leaning over you to run his hands along your sides and his lips down your back, “I intend to.”

You knew you were shaking at this point. The lust surging through you met with the over-sensitivity of being nearly on the verge of two separate orgasms in a deadly combination that left you trembling against him as his length slips along your folds, collecting the wetness there while you watched him watch you. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, your hands fisting the sheets as you arch your back more, presenting yourself to him in a way that could only be more accentuated if you were wrapped in a literal bow.

He gives no warning, simply deciding he’s through with whatever had once occupied his attention as he enters you in a slow, smooth motion that was only so easy due to the fact that you are no stranger to the size of him. You can’t help the noises you make, still adjusting drastically to him due to the week of celibacy between this tryst and your last. With a shuddering breath, he bends along the length of you, kissing at your shoulder in a rare moment of gentleness as he lets you adjust.

The moment is short-lived, his hand coming to your hair to pull it from your face as he leans back, urging, “Do not cum yet.”

Easier said than done, you manage to think, before he sets a completely ruthless pace that has you landing into the sheets with a force that’s only cushioned by the swell of your breasts. You hardly care, a soft hint of a smile forming at your lips as you gasp for air, your face squished against the mattress as Thor finally fucks you relentlessly. His hands piston your hips grasping and releasing only to give the swell of your ass a firm slap before returning to the leverage of your body against his own, chasing his own release with no regard for your own, though you hardly were left unsatisfied by the turn of events.

“T-Thor, oh my god, Thor,” you babble incoherently into the sheets, a scramble of random curses and cries as he hits you deep, hard, and so roughly you know you’ll have an ache in your stomach tomorrow morning.

He calls your name, pushing your head into the mattress a little more with his hand on the back of your neck before returning to his concentration on your ass. You reach beneath you, desperately seeking to rub your own clit as you prayed for a release that he would not allow. You were so close, on the edge, if only your fingers could press firmly on—

“You know better,” Thor growls, roughly grasping your forearms to pull your arms back to the sides of you, pushing them into the mattress as he squishes your body beneath his, his pace slowing just slightly as he tortures you a bit longer, “Did I say you could cum?”

You manage a whimper that sounds somewhat like a negative answer, and that seems to appease him for the time being.

“Just for that, I’m going to make you work for it now, little one,” he nips at your shoulder, before slipping out of you and leaving you feeling more empty than ever before.

A slew of protests escape you, but it’s no use. He’s already rolled onto his back alongside you, watching you expectantly with a look that was entirely predatory.

“Work for it,” he repeats, and you crawl over him only to settle your weight directly on his length. You mewl in response, a shaky breath escaping you as you finally settle him inside of you once again.

“I d-don’t know if I can keep up the pace,” you begin, only for him to shoot you an unimpressed stare. Regardless, you plant your hands along his chest, letting yourself sink down him to grind your clit against his abdomen. Despite his façade, he manages a gasp at that, his gaze faltering as it settles to where you were taking him so perfectly.

You rise up on your knees, using his body as the leverage you need to steady yourself, before taking him deep once again, continuing your pattern of grinding against him after every thrust. You believed yourself to be riding him expertly, but apparently your pace was not fast enough for him, as the God of Thunder grasped your hips to force you into a pace to his liking.

He swallows thickly, moaning nearly as much as you were as you hit your clit against his abdomen at each thrust, feeling his balls against your ass whenever you took him as deep as you could. You could tell he was close, too, no matter how long he truly wanted this to last. His skin was inflamed with his blush, glistening under the sweat that the exertion of your activity had caused. Part of you was proud you could reduce him to such a state, but another part of you knew he was far too much of an expert at reducing you to even worse.

“Thor, please, please,” you begged, holding him tight against you as his tongue trailed up the valley of your breasts to your neck before sucking there, nipping and scraping his teeth along your sensitive skin.

“Cum on me,” he orders, relenting to you finally, “Do it.”

“Fuck, Thor,” you scream as his hips snap up into yours when your pace finally stutters with the impact of your orgasm. He never stops, continuing to push you through it as your walls convulsed around him, throbbing along his dick until you feel hot spurts of warmth from within and hear his own choked cry that signaled his own release. Your heart was pounding in your ears, you could barely breathe, and it takes you a moment to realize that was partly due to his hand at your neck. He releases his grip slightly only to replace it at the swell of your ass, urging you to rock along with him just a little more until the sensitivity became too much for either of you. He pulls you off of him with a deep groan, and you whine in response, feeling his cum leave you in a slow drizzle down your thigh.

You both catch your breath with you spread along his chest and, for an instant, you almost fool yourself into thinking you are that girl from last year who felt so loved and cherished.

You open your eyes when he speaks, “He’ll be getting home soon.”

Neither of you need to elaborate on who he’s talking about, as you rise to your elbows to push off of him, allowing his touch to linger at your waist until you reach the edge of the bed. Standing on shaky legs, you collect your clothes from the floor, as Thor watches from his perch on the bed.

“Until next week, little one,” Thor teases as you reach the door, making you pause to glance back at him. He’s smiling as much as you ever saw him smile nowadays, a sort of crooked smirk along the corner of his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

If you had started this under different circumstances, if you both weren’t as broken as you are, you could have seen yourself happy with Thor. Then again, you had once been happy anyway.

Slipping your blouse overhead, you turn to leave him, once again promising yourself that this time will be the last time, only your resolve is a little weaker than before, “We’ll see.”

_He’s what you want_  
He’s what you want  
He’s what you want  
He’s what you want  
I’m what you need, what you need, what you need, what you need  
I’m what you need, what you need, what you need what you need


	2. What You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew that all the secrets, all the lies, would catch up to you eventually. What you couldn’t predict, however, was just how quickly they would.
> 
> **Chapter Warnings:** NSFW! Spoilers for Infinity War (& Endgame?); Rough unprotected sex, Dom!Steve; Oral (Male-receiving); kind of dark!fic-ish, mentions of adultery (from part 1), the reader berating herself, Steve being mean when he’s upset/hurt, angst, angst, angst, with smut; and a few flashbacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all! Why am I so mean? Why do I do this to myself? I don’t know why I made this so sad, but it just happened! I’m sorry— the story had a mind of its own in this one! Anyway, Steve-centric. I definitely tried to make him still likable and also believably hurt/mad. Did I pull it off? Lemme’ know! Idk if I’ll write a part 3 or not, so I left it at an ending I would be theoretically satisfied with. Also I promise I’ll get back to writing imagines soon, I’m just on vacation and literally can only write from my phone rn.

Gif Sources: [1](https://megmeg-chan.tumblr.com/post/187159674532/marveledits-steve-rogers-in-avengers-endgame) | [2](https://megmeg-chan.tumblr.com/post/187113130717/thompsons-tessa-thor-odinson-in-avengers-endgame)

* * *

The drive from what was once a S.H.I.E.L.D. safe house on the edge of town to the Avengers Compound took about thirty minutes, leaving you ample time to dwell on what you had done. The hint of Thor’s touch lingered on your lips, a warm ache between your legs leaving the reminder of how desperately in need of a shower you were. You smelled of him, a deep woodsy scent akin to sandalwood accompanied by the slightly clean whiff of burning ozone, and sex in a way that would only be removed by a thorough scrub-down.**  
**

The storm follows you until you make it inside the compound, evidenced by the droplets of water that marked your path toward the eastern end you and Steve gradually laid claim to in the aftermath of the end of the world. With a scan of your fingertips, the door slides open, revealing the interior apartment and a flash of lightning as it cracked somewhere beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows opposite. A wry smile comes to your lips as you realize you were the only human in New York left unsurprised by the flash thunderstorm at the end of this otherwise pristine day.

You don’t bother flicking on the light as you enter, hearing the gentle whir of the door shutting behind you and automatically locking. With practiced movements, you strip yourself of your keys and raincoat, hanging them neatly on the silver hook near the door and pushing back your damp hair. Rolling your shoulders, you relish in the eased tension that had seemingly evaporated from you over the past hours spent with Thor. Walking through the dark apartment is second nature, and you find yourself relieved that you had beaten Steve home from the support group meeting he often hosted in the city these days.

Your feet are bare by the time they meet the smooth tile of the kitchen, shoes abandoned along the entryway so as to not muddy the light carpet. Your toes pad softly along, the light of the refrigerator eventually illuminating your body as you fish out some water, finding yourself parched after the events of the day. You promptly gulp down nearly half the bottle before you even think of closing the door, allowing the cool air to dampen some of the heat still simmering within you. In the back of your mind, you wonder if the leftover take-out sitting in the back of the refrigerator was good enough to risk eating.

“Worked up a thirst, huh?”

You jolt, your water almost slipping from your hand as you turn in a panic towards the voice deep in the shadows. Clutching at your chest in a sarcastic dramatism, you easily recognize the form of the man sitting on the dining chair across from you who had been previously hidden by the small pocket of shade left untouched by the moonlight, “Steve! God, you nearly scared me to death! Why are you sitting in the dark in here?” There was no doubt that, when he pleased, Steve could be just as stealthy as the Black Widow herself, despite his size. Either that, or your own senses were getting rusty with the lack of practice.

He leans forward and into the light, letting it finally catch the side of his face along the jaw that you watch him clench, cascading shadows there that leave his expression frustratingly unreadable, “Just waiting on you.”

You roll your eyes, closing the refrigerator door before you lean against the counter furthest from him, “Ah, wanna’ order something for dinner? I bet you’re hungry after sitting for group all evening.”

“I didn’t go,” he says, standing up and sending the hair on the back of your neck rising to attention as you finally catch the sight of his eyes, steely and dark in a way that wasn’t simply the shadow of the night. Something was definitely wrong. His stance, his posture— something about his mood, was _off_. Steve sets his shoulders, crossing his arms in front of his chest in a way that causes his button-up to strain under the effort, tightening around his elbows where it was rolled up, “I had something more important to handle.”

You don’t say anything as you try to read his mood in a way that used to come so easy. You wanted to feel him out like you once could, determine the meaning of the unfathomable look in his eyes. It takes everything you have not to shift from your position when he comes closer, as if stalking a prey who did not yet know of the predator in the brush. Holding steady, you instead take another long sip from your water to occupy your tongue and excuse your silence.

When Steve just stares at you a moment longer, you decide to try and push past him before he can think to question your day, “Well, you think about what you want for dinner. I’m gonna’ go take a shower. The rain’s got me all messed up.”

Just as you nearly maneuver around him, he finds a grip on your forearm so quickly that you have absolutely zero time to react, stopping you in your tracks with a biting tone, “I think you’re going to want to hear what I’ve been up to today, _doll_.” Your blood runs cold at the way he says it. You’ve never heard him use that tone before, completely stern and icy; it sends a shiver down your spine as a foreign feeling of nervousness creeps up your back, choking you. The pet name held no fondness, as if he was spitting it at you. It sounds worse than if he’d just insulted you. “I know I’m interested in what _you’ve_ been up to today.”

“Steve, that hurts,” your voice is soft, and a bit shaky, as the grip on your arm tightens before he releases his pressure at your plea, not quite letting go but easing up so as to not hurt you. He was usually so careful to keep his strength in check, but right now? He looked as if he were close to bursting at his carefully kept seams.

“Alright,” Steve tugs at you, quite easily dragging you towards the chair he had once occupied and sitting you down into it with a superhuman tug before he lets you go, “you sit right there and let me tell you all about my day.” Rubbing the raw muscle beneath where his fingers once were, you watch with wide eyes as Steve paces towards you, standing so close your knees grazed his calves.

“Steve, you’re scaring me, baby. Did something happen?What’s wrong?”

“‘What’s wrong?’” Steve grits, stopping to lean towards you, gripping both arms of the chair and focusing his glare directly. It slices through you like butter, sending a shock into your bones that feels as if you’ll never recover from. Never had he looked at you like that— so full of anger, disgust, and more emotion than you’d seen from him for the past months, “‘_What’s wrong?_’ You have a lot of nerve— What’s wrong is the fact that my girlfriend is letting another man _fuck_ her, that’s what’s wrong!”

In that moment, you would have sworn all the blood left your body. Drained right out of your feet to pool on this ridiculous, expensive tile that was uniform throughout the compound. That was the only explanation for how you felt— faint, your mouth going dry, a deep nausea settling in your gut as guilt swelled in your chest until you felt as if it was going to burst through your rib cage. You can barely breathe, shallow gusts escaping through your gaping mouth as you stared, stunned, up at an utterly furious Steve Rogers. Two words rang in your head, like alarms sounding terrifyingly in your ears.

_He knows._

Steve doesn’t seem to care that he’s shocked you right into silence, rising up to an accusatory posture while you lean back into your seat in a futile attempt to escape him, “What, nothing to say? You were so vocal when you had his dick in you.”

“H-How—” you croak around the word, gripping your knees until your knuckles went white as you try to stay as outwardly calm as possible— a feat that was growing more impossible by the second.

“I’m not stupid,” your name is a scoff on his tongue, “I knew something was wrong, just couldn’t decide on what until tonight. I thought I was going crazy— told myself, Wow, Rogers, you are one really insane boyfriend to cross a line like this and follow her,’ tonight. At first, I talked myself into thinking you were just checking up on him— keeping tabs on our old friend— but then I could practically hear you screaming his name from the damn car, and I started thinking a whole lot differently! You know, out of everyone you could have been cheating on me with, I really didn’t think it would have been Thor!”

“I know you’re not stupid,” is all you can manage to dumbly squeak.

He snatches you up by a sudden grip at your wrist, growling right into your ear as the force of his tug lands you against his chest, “At least tell me you left there feeling satisfied with yourself. Did you have fun? Was it worth it?” The searing words leave tears burning at your eyes, and you feel yourself shaking as you tug at his grip in vain. Steve leans back only to level you with the audible hurt straining in his voice when it nearly cracks, “Did you even stop to think about me once?” When you don’t answer, he yells at you— genuinely _yells_ at you— for the first time, “Just tell me the truth!”

“I thought about you,” you shout back reflexively, before breaking into a softer whimper, “I think about you all the time!”

“Then why?” his voice breaks tragically as he watches you cry, tense against you.

“I— I know you don’t love me like you used to,” you finally admit, saying it out loud and bringing it into your reality. Your voice raises with the hurt behind your own words, “Bucky and Sam are gone, but I’ve been right here beside you this whole time! You’re not the only one grieving, Steve! And every time I try to talk to you, you push me away.” Finally, you build up the strength to wrench yourself from his grip, and he seems too tired to hold you there as he listens to your cried words, “You act like you can’t stand to be with me! Like Thanos snapped his fingers and suddenly you don’t care for me anymore! Sometimes— sometimes you make me wish I had disappeared, too— maybe then you’d want me here!”

You were sobbing by the end of it, but the words choke through your shaky and stammered breaths, desperation lacing your voice in a way that you hated. When had you become so needy? So disgustingly pathetic, all because the man you still loved didn’t seem to love you back anymore. How was it possible to miss someone so badly when they were standing right beside you?

Steve sets his jaw, collecting himself after a moment of your heaving.

“So you run around with Thor, because you think I don’t want you here?” Steve grits out, his own eyes shining in the moonlight with unshed tears. You can’t make yourself answer, sobs still leaving you in the mess you were and stealing the air in your lungs with each labored breath. His hand comes to cradle your neck, a roughness to the motion as an angry murmur escapes him, “I’ll show you how I’ve wanted you.”

His lips crash down to your own, harsh in a way that Steve had never handled you before. Rage explodes against your tongue, teeth scraping against your lips and forcing your mouth to bend to his intent. The worst part about it was how easily you melted to him, how desperately you clutched at the dark flannel that encased his shoulders as tears stained your face with wet streaks. In the very essence of your being, you hated what had become of the both of you.

His grip in your hair is so tight it nearly makes you see stars when he tugs at it, sharp pain erupting along your scalp and causing you to whine as he forces your head back, forging a path for his lips to scrape down your jaw, his teeth laying their abuse upon your neck. A threatening ripping sound erupts around you as Steve tears at your clothes, all of the gentleness you were used to from him escaping you in this moment as your shirt falls to the floor in shambles, accompanied by the skirt he shoves from your waist. This was not the loving, playful lover you had fallen for, who now desperately grasped in the dark to the crumbling straws of your relationship.

> _You giggled against his lips, feeling his hand at the edge of your thigh, still so uncertain of going further until you repeated, “Are you going to touch me or not, Rogers?” Steve chuckles right into your lips, capturing them once more in a leisurely kiss that has your toes curling with the intensity of it. You’re entirely sure you’ll never get tired of kissing him. He was always so gentle with you, so slow, careful to keep his strength in check, especially in moments like these when it would be so easy to let it go too far. When his hand does slip up your thigh to press against your panties, you mewl into his mouth, getting a returning groan that makes your head spin. He breaks the kiss, leading a trail down your neck on his path ever downwards, worshiping each area of your body along his way. Your head falling back against the pillows when he mouths over your clit teasingly, you can’t help but praise, “You know you make me crazy when you do that, Steve.”_

Steve’s hand releases your hair, the pain ebbing as he looks over his handiwork. You stood there, face tear streaked and naked, as sharp breaths ravaged your lungs, working to catch a good gulp of air in the midst of your crying and his kiss. Despite the protest of your lungs, all you want is to press yourself back to him. Starved for him, you know you’ll let him do whatever he pleases with you now, and try to beg for his forgiveness after the damage was done.

“Get on your knees,” Steve states, almost as direct as if he had just given you an order as Captain America, rather than your boyfriend. Of course you would have obeyed, even without the aid of his hand at the curve of your shoulder. You note that he hasn’t mentioned your lack of underwear, but you’re left uncertain of whether that fact leaves you feeling better or worse. A whisper of his name passes your lips as the cold tile sends a jolt through your system, catching his gaze when he breaks his grip from your skin. His blue eyes were dark, almost as chaotic as the storm beyond the windows, with a slightly glazed look, undoubtedly the product of his own attempt to hide his emotions from you.

You absolutely hate the feeling his stare gives you. Looking at you as if he could see right through you. You realize, for a horrifying first time, that you no longer felt safe with this particular vulnerability as guilt overcomes you.

He watches you in silence, as you force your gaze upon the crotch of his dark jeans, noting the bulge there. Unbuckling his belt, you meticulously remove them from his hips until his length stands between you, half-hard and waiting for your attention. Steve strips his shirt off while you’re distracted and steps out of his jeans, leaving you both naked, no more secrets between you. You don’t need his instruction to know what to do. Working him over came as easy as breathing, your tongue starting slow as it danced around the head of his cock, just how you knew he liked it in the past.

> _“You— you don’t need to do that, doll—!” Steve gasps sharply, eyes widening at the feeling of you taking him deep just to shut him up, nearly gagging on the length of him before you lean back to smile sweetly up at him. He runs a hand through his hair, gripping and letting out a shaky breath, “You’re determined to kill me, aren’t you? Put this old-timer in the grave with a heart attack?” The joke in his voice has you laughing around his dick as you go back down on him, sending a shudder through him at your vibrations. You were determined to show him how much you wanted to do this; you wanted him to feel as good as he had historically made you feel. You set out the same slow pace he seemed to treat you with, building him up just as gently as your hands moved along what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Before long he was moaning beneath you, leaving you with an excitement erupting within you at the thought of getting him off. A moan hums around his cock as you abandon your grip on him to reach between your own thighs, the sound of his strangled protest catching sweetly at your ears, “You keep that up, and I’m gonna’ cum—” His pleas do little to slow you; after all, that was the whole idea, wasn’t it?_

His hands grasp at either side of your head, forcing you to take him deeper, a groan leaving him when he urges, “Take it like you mean it, doll.”

Your gentle pace must not be enough to sate him anymore, or maybe he just wanted to wear out some of his anger on you. Either way, you do your best to keep up with the brutal pace he sets as you hopelessly grip at his thighs, letting him fuck into your mouth as he pleased. Your eyes screw shut as you try to remember how to breathe, up until the moment he goes a bit too deep and you gag on him.

When they fly open, you catch sight of the look on Steve’s face. His lower lip is caught in his teeth, barely containing the moans erupting deep in the back of his throat. The hair that was still longer than he’d once kept it shaded his eyes as it fell into an unkempt disarray with the events unfolding between you. You hum against him, trying to swallow around him as best you could with his head hitting the back of your throat uncomfortably with just about each thrust of his hips. Your nails must have shaped small crescents onto the back of his thighs with your tight grip, but if it hurt, he didn’t show it. Steve’s brows come together in a focused expression, and if you were being honest, he was beautiful enough that you could almost forget the circumstances surrounding this.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growls when you take him particularly deep, forcing you to hold your breath as your eyes water with the pressure of it, “Why you went to him?” He wasn’t speaking in full sentences with the lust swimming through his head, but he doesn’t need to in order to get his point across, punctuated with a thrust. “Is that what you are now,” he gasps, and you feel his dick throb in your mouth, knowing he was close, “Thor’s _slut_?”

A whimper leaves you, muffled by his cock as he never relents, leaving a whine hitching in your throat. You wanted to tell him he was wrong, but that would be just another lie. Getting Steve off had always somewhat gotten you off, even now. His roughness or spiteful words didn’t seem to change the effect he had on you, leaving you shifting your weight on your knees in an effort to relieve your discomfort. You can feel it, your arousal damp between your thighs, leaving you aching for any form of his attention. You almost hate how wet you were. How he could call you all number of things and you would still present yourself to him like a birthday present. In the back of your mind, you scream that his words were deserved— that he was right about you. Undoubtedly, the remnants of what had occurred between you and Thor still remained, and you were certain Steve would figure that out soon enough.

He doesn’t warn you, or try to pull back like he usually did. Just forces himself as deep as he can and cums fast and hard in the back of your throat to where you choke on it right before he pulls out altogether. You cough, sputtering what you hadn’t reflexively swallowed onto the tile as you gasp for air. Your nose burned as your eyes watered, the saltiness on your tongue a harsh reminder of how he had handled you, along with his cum dribbling down your chin.

Steve allows you to catch your breath before he tugs you up, pulling you against him and kissing at your jaw with open-mouthed, heated kisses that leave your skin screaming for his tongue to be placed a little further south. Grasping at his bare waist as he thoroughly abuses your throat, you manage some hoarse words through your gasping breaths.

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

He pulls back to look down at you, a torn expression breaking through the icy façade, before he reaches to pull your lips to his by a hand at the nape of your neck. This kiss is undoubtedly just as rough as the last he had placed there, though there’s a whisper of the kind of people you once were behind it. A passion that you hadn’t felt in ages passing between you. His lips move with yours, urging a moan from you when his fingers slip down your side, delving between your legs to brush through your folds and send a spark of pleasure through you. His fingers are careless, brash against your clit as they stroke the length of your pussy in a way that was solely for his benefit, despite you receiving your own lustful pleasure from the motion. His fingers dip within you, a long digit making you moan into his kiss before he grinds the palm of his hand down upon your clit for good measure— just to torture you.

“I don’t believe you,” Steve breaks the kiss to drag his lips along your cheek, to your ear, all the while your heart breaks with it. He whispers, “Prove it.”

There’s a frantic edge to your voice, laced with the desire his fingers coaxed, “Anything!”

Unexpectedly, his fingers abandon you, spinning you to turn to face the kitchen table. Your hands come down on the heavy wood, smooth and sleek beneath your fingertips in the same way that most tables in the compound were. You dare a glance at Steve over your shoulder, watching him as his hand presses at the small of your back to force your bend over the length of the table, his other hand returning between your thighs to run through your folds, pressing wet fingertips against your clit.

The angry head of his cock presses against your entrance as he grits out another scathing question, “Did you let him cum inside you?”

Your stare falters, a heat flaring through your face that left you feeling somehow even more lightheaded and guilty than you’d initially thought possible. At your silence, Steve snaps his hips toward your own, making you cry out with how quickly he’d entered you—- stretching you, and leaving you collapsed against the table in a desperate attempt to recover. It takes a second to register his firm grip at your thigh and the warmth of his breath at your ear as he starts a brutal pace that leaves you little time to adjust.

You love it.

“Did. You. Let. Him?” Steve huffs with each thrust of his hips slapping against your ass, pushing you up the table with the force of it only for him to pull you back down to meet his next thrust.

Collecting yourself only a little, you manage to shout around your moans, “Yes!” His forehead presses between your shoulder blades, and you curse the fact that you can’t see him right now.

“_You smell like him_,” it’s a whisper between your back and his lips that nearly makes you cry at the sound of it. Steve sounds wrecked, completely broken in the aftermath of your infidelity and his neglect— a part of himself that you wonder if he can only show you when your back is turned to him, and he knows you can’t fully visualize it. You wonder if he’s even aware of how much his voice betrays him in this moment, all the hurt and anger wrapped up into a singular husky tone that was muddied with the raw lust your actions wrought.

Your fingers come to find a grip at the arm he wraps around your breasts to bring you more completely into the meeting of his hips against your own, yelping your regrets in time with his thrusts, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

> _Your forehead pressed against his, whimpers and moans escaping you with each thrust, “I love you, Steve.” His fingers were certain against you, rubbing expert circles into your clit as he rolled his hips against your own in a way that quickly drove you insane. You were both sweating by now, having done this dance for far longer than ever before. Judging by his own needy look, he couldn’t stand this much longer, either. How many times had he made you cum? You were certain it was at least four at this point. Steve presses his mouth along your jaw, tongue dragging in his kiss as you both make a mess of each other with your lovemaking. Another roll of his hips draws a whine from your lips, fingers clutching at his back through another orgasm, “I love you! God, I love you!” You have no doubt that he’ll return the sentiment._

Your body reacts to his as if nothing had changed, still begging him with every movement to drive you towards your mutual end. He plows you both forward, hurling you both towards it with the relentless impact of his body against your own, filling you deep with each quick and strong thrust. He leaves you a mess against the kitchen table, little more than whimpers and moans escaping either of you as you race to the peak of an orgasm that you’re so grateful to let wash over you.

A sob chokes in your throat when you feel the snap, the warmth of his cum filling you leaving you calling his name desperately into the palm of your hand as your pussy clenches and spasms around him. You don’t realize he’s broken off the corner of the table with the force of his grip until you spot it, splintered and askew, in the aftermath of your orgasm. Shivers linger down your spine as his weight lifts off of you, the feeling of his length slipping from you causing you to wince with how utterly spent and raw you were.

You can’t stand, instead slipping off the end of the table and onto the floor as gently as your uncoordinated limbs will allow, resigning yourself to wait while your legs regained their senses. You watch, heart still hammering in your chest, as Steve cleans himself off with a dishtowel, before he begins the walk back to your feet.

The towel falls along your thighs.

“Steve,” you begin, but the single finger he holds up is enough to stop you.

“Clean yourself up, and then I want you to find somewhere else to stay tonight,” he sounds like a man trying not to show emotion— like someone who desperately didn’t want to cry in front of the person who had caused them pain. You have no such luxury, feeling silent tears escaping as soon as his words steal what little breath you had left. “There are plenty of rooms left here these days. I’m sure you’ll find one you like.”


End file.
